“Hello, ladies!” Craig interrupts loudly. “Well, well, well, the cousins have arrived. I have been looking forward to meeting both of you for weeks. I’m Craig. I work with Sheer Happiness Events, and I’m one of Madison’s best friends.” He reaches out and shakes both of their hands. Both of the girls are friendly, and Craig manages to distract them from me as he leads them to the bar to get a drink. He’s awesome; I need to remember to buy him a gift. My mom is still standing in front of me with her arms folded in disappointment.
“Mom, you can save your lecture for later.” I hold up my hand because I know she has plenty to say. “I know how disappointed you are in me, and you will have plenty of time to tell me about it after my shower. For now, I’m going to enjoy my day and spend time with my friends.”
When I turn around Abby is waiting for me. I walk over to her, and she gives me a hug. She doesn’t say a word, but she knows she doesn’t need to.
I’m having so much fun, especially because I have managed to avoid my entire family for most of the day. I could definitely get used to this on a regular basis. Everyone loved the hula lessons; even Ellie was out there practicing. I took a picture so I had proof, just in case. The shower is a huge success until Craig has a brilliant idea, actually a not so brilliant idea. He decides we should go around the room and everyone should share a memory or message about me. Oh no! Why? I whisper to him that I specifically requested no games. He insists that this is not a game and that it gives everyone a chance to share something wonderful about me. He’s obviously forgetting that family is here, and my stomach starts to turn into knots. This is going to be a disaster.
As the game, or whatever it is, gets underway, I realize how many great friends I have. Most of the guests are sharing stories about how we met or what they love about me. There are lots of laughs and even a few tears. There is a bit of a gasp when Kellie, a friend from high school, tells a few stories about us getting drunk on wine coolers, getting tattoos, and throwing up in the pool at the YMCA. To this day, I’m not even sure how we got to the YMCA that night. Anyway, Grandmother obviously didn’t know I have a tattoo. I see her rub her temples; she must be getting a migraine, or at least that’s the excuse she will use when she leaves early. Slowly we are making our way around the room, and Stephy’s turn is approaching. Maybe I should create a diversion? I could always pull the fire alarm. I glance at Sienna who gives me a nervous smile.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Stephanie Smith, Madie’s cousin. I’m happy to be here today to celebrate my cousin’s wedding. Madie is like another sister to us and she deserves all the happiness in the world.” She pauses as she takes a sip of her tropical drink. For a second I think she is finished talking, but of course, I’m not that lucky. She continues, “I have always admired Madie; she’s a hard worker and has risen above her challenges.”
Ahhh . . . Yes, here it comes. I plaster a huge goofy, fake smile on my face. “School was not always easy for her; she was even held back a whole year. But that didn’t stop her—she realized that mainstream college classes probably weren’t for her and went to cosmetology school. She’s done very well! Madie, I’m so proud of you.” She runs over to me and gives me a hug. The plastered smile is still there. If my Grandmother wasn’t here, I’d be halfway through a bottle of tequila by now. Of course, I would need to save the other half for whatever Ellie has to say. And now it’s Grandmother’s turn. I close my eyes and remind myself that this will all be over soon enough.
“Hello, everyone.” She doesn’t stand up but gives everyone a Miss America kind of wave. “Such a wonderful occasion to celebrate. I have been extremely blessed with three beautiful and talented granddaughters. I’m thankful that Madison’s marriage has brought my girls together again. Thank you.” She smiles and waves again. That’s it, that’s her message to me, nothing about me alone, no mention of my accomplishments. Wow, just wow. If I had that bottle of tequila it would be completely gone, and Ellie hasn’t even shared her glowing tribute to me yet.
“How are you holding up?” Abby whispers from beside me as she gives me a sympathetic look. “You know, on the whole, I don’t think it’s been that bad.” I know Abby is trying to make me feel better, and she is right. It really could have been so much worse. I look up to see Ellie standing; she is the last of my guests to talk. Here we go.
“Hello, I’m Ellenor Smith, Madie’s other cousin. I think Stephy said everything perfectly. We have so much respect and love for Madie, and we do consider her another sister. Even though we haven’t been as close as we were when we were young, Stephy and I are making the effort. We practically had to beg her to be bridesmaids, and thankfully, she finally agreed. Of course, in her defense, it was last minute.” I look at Sienna and signal the she needs to cut this off now. I see her whisper to Craig because this was his idea to emotionally torture me for an hour. “How terrific are her cookies? They almost look store-bought, but don’t worry, Madie, I know you made them,” she says, pointing at me. “I have to admit I was surprised about this hobby of hers. When we were kids she did break our Easy-Bake Oven and almost burned our house down, and believe me when I tell you that was not the only stupid thing she did . . .”
“OK! Thank you so much, ladies,” Craig interrupts Ellie. “I’m terribly sorry to cut this short, as you can see, the dessert buffet has been set up. I know after listening to all of these emotional tributes I could definitely go for some chocolate. Please help yourself.”
The guests start chatting and making their way to the dessert table, which looks amazing, I might add. Because I don’t have tequila here, I will just have to eat my weight in desserts. I’m not usually an emotional eater, but after today, I probably need to be.
“So, I don’t think it was that bad,” Craig says after he walks over with a black-and-white cookie in his hand. “Whatever!” I exclaim. “That was brutal, thanks by the way.” I’m not one who holds grudges, but it may take me a while to forgive Craig for this one.
“Craig’s right. I expected much worse,” Abby says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
A little while later most of the guests have gone except for Sienna, Abby, Craig, Susan, and my family. We’re busy gathering the gifts, décor, and the flowers.
“Madison, I can bring all the gifts to the house. You can put everything away as you move your stuff over,” Susan says as she looks for something in her gorgeous Louis Vuitton bag (authentic, of course). Crap! She didn’t just say that out loud, did she? With everything happening, I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone about the house.
“House? What house?” Sienna is the first to ask; everyone else is staring at me. I guess this means it’s time to make the announcement.
“My house, well mine and Cole’s.” I give Susan a big smile. I know she’s probably wondering why I haven’t told anyone. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to tell you all about this fantastic gift that we’ve been given. Cole’s parents have given us a beautiful house for our wedding. I still can’t believe it!” Everyone starts talking at once and asking questions.
“Susan, what a wonderful present. Thank you!” my mom says, giving Susan a big hug.
“What’s the square footage?” Grandmother asks.
“Is there a pool?” asks Craig.
“We will have so much fun decorating!” Abby exclaims.
“Are you kidding me? Who gets a free house?” I hear Ellie whisper to Stephy.
“Where is it?” Sienna asks.
Thankfully, Susan starts answering everyone’s questions. I pull Sienna aside to explain.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you yet. We found out while we weren’t speaking, and then you were so busy with the shower. Honestly, I just forgot.” I feel so bad right now; I should have told her.
“I know we were planning to live close to each other. Neither Cole nor I knew they were going to do this.” I’m trying to talk as quietly as I can, especially because I see Ellie and Stephy curiously watching us. I know they think we
’re about to argue, and I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing that.
“Of course. I know that,” she says. “Congratulations.” She gives me a quick hug and runs off to pack up the décor.
“Honey, are you OK?” Susan asks worriedly.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“I invited everyone to my house for a late dinner. That way, you can bring them to see the house. I hope that’s OK.” How do I tell her that that is the last thing I want to do? After everything everyone has done for me today, I don’t.
“Sounds good,” I tell her.
After we load up all the gifts into several cars, we caravan over to Susan’s, and I guess my place, too. (Still can’t get used to that.) My mom rides with me, and I know she just wants to talk about my run-in with Ellie.
“Go ahead, Mom, let’s get it out so we can move on.”
“Honey, why are you so defensive?” she asks with the same disapproving tone my grandmother uses. “Why don’t you just tell me why you were screaming at your cousin in front of all your friends and family?”
“Mom, will it even make a difference if I tell you?” I keep my eyes focused straight ahead on the road. This isn’t my first rodeo going head-to-head with her on this subject. “You’ve already made up your mind. You expect this perfect family relationship that’s just not going to happen.”
“No, honey. That’s not . . .”she tries to interrupt, but I hold up my hand to stop her.
“Please just let me finish. I asked them to be in my wedding, the most important day in my life. I did this for you and Grandmother. We’re never going to agree on this subject and my feelings have never mattered anyway. So, it’s probably best to just leave it alone and move on.”
Mom doesn’t say anything else about it, and the rest of our ride is quiet. When we pull up at the house (my house), Mom tells me she loves me and gives me a hug. I sense a tiny bit of something from her, guilt maybe? I tell her that I love her, too.
My new house is a huge hit as is Susan’s dinner that she somehow manages to whip up in less than thirty minutes. Sometimes I wonder if she has a secret chef team hidden in her house, or maybe she has a delivery company bring in food and she pretends she made it. Either way, she outdoes herself again. I hope Cole doesn’t expect these kinds of meals after we’re married. If so, I guess I can always send him down the street to his mommy’s house for a home-cooked meal. At least he will always have cookies.
Chapter 7
A few days later, I realize that I haven’t heard a word from my cousins, and it’s been wonderful. I quickly learn that I have a bad habit of jinxing myself when it comes to them. When I arrive at work, I look at my appointments for the day. At 1:30, I see a familiar name, and I start to feel sick to my stomach. There is no way it could be the same person, right? There are people out there with doppelganger names, right?
“Lauren!” I yell, running to the reception desk. “Who’s this Stephanie Smith? Did she say anything when she set the appointment?” There is no way that Stephy would actually allow me to do her hair, right?
“Not really, she requested you when she made the appointment. That was pretty much all except she was very demanding and wanted to get an appointment as soon as possible. Do you know her?” Crap! It is Stephy, but why?
“I think so.” I have a bad feeling as I start to get everything ready for my day. I wonder why Stephy would be coming to me today. I’ve been doing hair for years, and never once has either of them shown any interest in my career other than to put it down. So, this leads me to believe that they’re up to something or maybe paranoia is officially taking over my soul. I guess it could be possible that what they said at the shower is true. Maybe they are really trying.
A few hours later, I hear Stephy’s voice. I was hoping up until the very last second that another Stephanie Smith was going to walk through that door. But of course not, it’s Stephy.
“Madie, I brought tons of pictures of what I want you to do. I really want that ombre color that everyone is doing. Here’s exactly what I want.” She hands me some pictures of some very dramatic color. Stephy has really dark hair, so I’m hesitant to go this drastic on her especially because I have never done her hair. I know her well enough that if it’s not exactly what she is expecting she will let it be known. Now the question is how do I convince her to do something else?
“Honestly, Stephy, this is too dramatic for today. We could gradually get there in a couple appointments. Here are some other options.” I hand her my iPad with several other ideas. She looks through them but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her.
“Can you get as close to this as possible?” She points to one of the pictures she brought me. “Unless you just can’t do it?” She knows that is going to drive me crazy. I hate when someone questions my skills because I’m great at doing hair, and I know it.
“Of course I can do it, but I want you to be happy with how it turns out. It would be better to start gradually and work to this.” I think she’s actually considering that I may know what I’m talking about. Although I’m still curious to know why she came to me today out of the blue.
“So, what happened to your regular stylist? You’ve never come to see me before. Not that I mind, it’s really nice of you to come in.” I put her on the spot because I have nothing to lose by just being honest.
“Oh, Federico is wonderful. He went on a holiday around the world. Won’t return for several months. I miss him dearly. Anyhoo, I figured why not give you a chance to do my hair. I’m sure you can use every bit of practice you can get. What is it that they say, every client is more practice or mastering your craft or something like that?” Hmmm . . . I give her a forced fake smile. I’m contemplating “accidentally” chopping off some of her hair, maybe just on one side. I wonder if I would feel guilty about it afterward?
“OK, let’s get to it then.” I try to put that idea out my head.
Is this appointment ever going to end? Stephy has been rambling non-stop about gossip at her job, men she has been dating, and how she is now on a strict juicing only diet. I want to tell her that I have no desire to hear another word about her irritable bowel syndrome and other “private” health issues she had prior to the juicing. Nor do I care about the “who has slept with whom” sagas at work. She hasn’t let me get a word in.
I manage to finish her hair without completely chopping it off or overprocessing her color. That was definitely an internal battle of good versus evil. Good ultimately prevailed, but only so I could keep my spotless reputation intact.
“Here you go!” I exclaim proudly as I spin her chair around to show her my latest masterpiece. “The color really suits your skin tone.” I did a subtler ombre color than the pictures she brought in. It’s very similar so she shouldn’t really notice, or so I thought.
“Oh. Well, it’s nice but it’s not this color,” she says as she holds up the picture to her head. “I really had my heart set on this.”
“I know, but this is just a slightly darker shade; we’re working to this.” I point to her picture. “At your next appointment, we will be able to achieve exactly that. Just trust me, I have been doing this a long time.” Secretly I’m praying she won’t come back. She stares at herself in the mirror for what seems like several minutes. She starts running her fingers through her hair and swinging her head around. She looks like she’s in a shampoo commercial. I can tell she’s really starting to like it, but I doubt she will admit it.
“Well, I will just have to see.” She gathers up her stuff, gives me an air kiss, and with that, she is gone.
After she leaves, I wonder if I just imagined all of that. Why, after so many years, did she decide to come to me? Was there some kind of ulterior motive? I shake my head; I think I’m starting to lose it. I put these crazy thoughts out of my head and get ready for my next client.
When I get home I look around my apartment, and it really hits me that I’ve barely started packing. I don’t know what I have been waiting for.
Something comes over me and I become a packing machine; granted, it’s not Sienna’s perfectly organized (and annoying) method of packing, but at least I’m doing it.
When Sienna comes home, she doesn’t make a single comment about me packing but gives me a satisfied smile. We chat for a few minutes and she hurries to her room; she obviously has plans tonight and seems to be in a good mood so my guess is she has a date with the very dashing Ace Eckelund.
“Which outfit do you like better?” she asks, holding up two possible choices.
“Well, that depends on where you’re going,” I say, giving her a sly grin.
“It’s a dinner party, but it’s still a work function,” she replies quickly. I raise my eyebrows.
“OK, OK. I’m going with Ace.” Wow, what’s this, she admitted it to me? She isn’t keeping it a secret?
“Oh, that sounds fun. I think you should wear that one.” I point to the always appropriate and sexy little black dress.
“What’s the dinner party for?” I ask curiously. Ace’s company is always having these fun dinner parties/work events. If I ever need a job, I plan to call him immediately. I’m not even exactly sure what he does, but it’s something international and they’re always having fun.
“There is a new team being introduced from Scotland. They recently arrived, and it’s some kind of welcome party.” She runs back to the bathroom to do her makeup.
All of a sudden, a light bulb goes off in my head and I remember that woman Ace was with at Venice. What was her name again? I hurry to the bathroom to tell Sienna about it and trip over my box I was packing.
“Ow!” I scream, followed by a bunch of bad words. My grandmother would be horrified if she heard me right now.
Wedding Haters (Event to Remember Series-Book 2) Page 8
